#awkward duke of my heart

[angstmongertina]

Wow, I am terrible at technology, that last ask was supposed to be for Lia/Lyon I just... Hit send early? Or something? Idek anymore.

I randomed an "11" for you this time!

(Feel free to 🌀 yourself if you don't like 11 though)

So I absolutely meant to write additional scenes for this but I've been wholly distracted by a separate Cinderella AU for them now, so I will just post what I have so it doesn't burn a hole in my fic folder while I work on the whole AU lol. Thank you for the prompt! <3 I did, in fact, decide to run with 11 and it ended with me realizing what exactly Lia saw in Lyon in the first place, so thank you for that as well! :D

11. Heartbeat

At first, she approached him out of a sense of propriety. After all, as a delegate at the Seven Kingdoms Summit, she had a duty to meet as many of her fellows as possible, as soon as possible. And, given the circumstances surrounding her attendance, that Included the rest of the delegation from her own kingdom.

What possessed her to approach the Duke first and foremost was less apparent. It was certainly not from any encouragement on his side—while few of the Jiyelese delegation seemed to possess any more enthusiasm for socialization than she, a young lady who was attending out of obligation rather than desire, did, the duke was hardly one of them, though his expression seemed more… guarded, more uncomfortable, than anything else.

Perhaps that was it; it was not immutable, his attitude towards their fellow delegates. It was born of discomfort, likely of longstanding isolation, and she couldn’t help but try.

And shockingly, wonderfully, it worked. Oh, he had few words at first, his conversation stilted enough that it seemed to be an intentional obstacle on his part, but he was not immune to light coaxing and gentle teasing, even allowing a subtle smile to soften his features at her most pointed comments. And the words came easily, once she noticed his faint hint of interest. It was guarded, of course, carefully buried beneath stoic masks and, very likely, pointed reminders of what topics were and were not appropriate for social niceties, but once she did notice, it seemed almost impossible to not see the subtle shifts in his expression, the flicker of genuine enthusiasm in his eyes, as she ventured to ask his opinion on Mozi and Lisi, and offer hers in return.

It was a strange thing, to engage in such a discussion. After years of having only her family and servants as company, years where her conversations were on crop rotations and book balancing rather than philosophical treatises and academic debate, it was unfamiliar to banter and quip, to speak of theories and abstractions that she had only managed to glean through books borrowed and perused on late nights, made later by extra work. It was strange. It was enjoyable.

It was… right, somehow.

Still, she was not so deeply enthralled in the discussion that she missed the glances they received from the others, a mix of curious and calculating, particularly from other, no doubt more eligible, young ladies.

Then again, she did not require training for the summit to know that she was close to overstepping the bounds of propriety with the length of their conversation.

As she excused herself, he returned her formal farewell with alacrity, bowing and excusing himself a retreat into his self-imposed exile, in a corner far from the rest of their fellows, with a speed that perhaps should have been discouraging. And yet, even so, there was a change in his posture, in the manner with which he held himself, that lessened the disapproval which had earlier seemed to radiate off of him. For a moment, she granted herself a moment to pause, allowing the success of the interaction to bolster her nerve.

Maybe, just maybe, she was not quite so out of her league. Indeed, perhaps, she could make a small difference in her own way, could make some… pleasant memories, or even friends, from the unfortunate circumstances. Even if she did still have the rest of the gauntlet to face.

Taking a deep breath, she turned back to the rest of the hall and summoned her most friendly smile, though even so, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back towards the corner, towards him, with a silly smile that she couldn’t fight, even if she wanted to.

And, strangely, wonderfully, she had no desire to.

[sistertotheknowitall]

Some Guy Bingo

Masterpost.

Nearly three months into (what Jason called) The Haunting, the siblings kinda started a game. (“Either we're haunting him or he's haunting us, I haven't decided yet." "Considering he's the one appearing randomly, I'd say he's haunting us.")

Technically Tim had started it with, “five bucks says Danny went to class today.” (Gotham university was having an out break of fear toxin curtesy of Dr. Crane.) However, it was Jason who kicked it off with, “ten if he says something about actual scarecrows.”

Dick had snorted and said, “fifteen if it’s a personal experience about a farm.”

“I call bingo if he makes a vague statement on agriculture.” So it was actually Steph who started it.

“Bingo? We were placing bets.”

“Unlike you Hood, some people don’t get adopted by money.”

“As if Bruce doesn’t give you an allowance.”

(“As if he didn’t offer to adopt you,” Tim tacked on.)

It became a running joke where they started calling out "bingo if -" whenever they had to go out on a call. The joke had later formed into a running game when Danny had told Cass, “fighting gods is a pass-time, it is humanity that the real fight is against.” (He had trip over a curb and laid on the ground for several minutes before she asked if he was okay.) She said it wasn’t the most concerning thing he said to her and Steph chimed in claiming, “on a scale of one to ten that statement rates at a three.”

Jason had asked why Cass and Steph always got the weird ambiguous statements and he got cryptic shit about his “soul”.

(Damian had pointed out that at least he wasn’t being constantly referred to as a baby.)

I Call Bingo, which they still played whenever a situation required more than one of them, became “on a scale”

Dick was sure that “having given up on optimism, I find your enthusiasm to be overly bright” should be ranked higher then “I don’t like two-stepping but I’m from the mid-west, so do you know how to line dance?” (Danny and Duke had gotten into an awkward side step where they kept blocking each other.) Damian said the wording seemed passive-aggressive but the tone was too positive to be rude so he gave it a three. Jason said it sounded like a bad pick up line and gave it a two.

They often debated and defended the score they gave with Barbara chiming in over coms. She had never met Danny as Oracle but he was a regular at the public library. He was always polite and respectful and had quickly become one of her favorite patrons. Like Steph and Cass she also got odd statements but hers felt more like half-hearted jokes.

Bruce didn't always join in on their game but it wasn't surprising to see the occasional score placed in their reports. (They had a file dedicated to Danny's remarks. Originally it was to keep track of what they knew about him but at this point it was just to let the others know what he said this time.) Alfred was roped into it even if he didn't really participate unless asked. ("Hey Alfie, what would you give 'i'm glad i don't have to fight my food to eat it but if Batburger keeps giving me the wrong thing I'm summoning Lunch Lady.' Cause Tim says two but I think it's a five.") (He gave it a four.)

Post 4

[star2fishmeg]

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴡʀᴀᴘs

[4.4k] Pairing | bsf!Luke Hughes x bsf!afab!reader Summary | luke and y/n are tired of feeling left behind and help each other out…but in the company of their friends. but it makes a good story, right? Warnings | 18+ smut, kinda slow start, best friends to lovers, long haired luke!!! Bc I love long hair, umich!luke, (basically public) fingering, swearing, appearance and sex insecurities, tiny bit of angst but not really, mutual pining, making out Authors Note | im in such a luke brainrot it’s painful, this was supposed to be a blurb but I can’t control myself but anyway, this is my first hockey fic i hope its alright. Based on this after hours post! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes

Luke felt like a creep. But she looked so at peace sitting on the lake's docks, feet dangling and toes skimming the water's surface. While she was nothing but a silhouette in the distance, the sunset cascading on the horizon complimenting her like a portrait in a museum. He also wasn’t sure on how long he’d been standing at the sliding patio doors, the UMich boy’s voices blended out into a white noise while his mind wandered to crevices of thoughts he’d been avoiding for months, but anything to escape Ethan and Luca’s conversations about girlfriend stories. Yes, he was happy for them, found it cute in fact, but when was it his turn to have that chapter in his life? He could have it if he didn’t panic and fumble at every party they threw, just a bit more alcohol and maybe he’d have a chance but like all victims of tragedy, no one would ever be her. Could ever replace her or even substitute her. So, while his curls bounced in the gentle breeze, Luke Hughes admired the only girl in the University of Michigan that’s ever made his heart ache and contort in bittersweet ways.

With a firm slap to his back, Luke’s daydream snapped back to reality, to Dylan Duke grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. The most painful thing Dylan had to endure since he met Luke was watching his friend follow y/n like a lost puppy begging for attention, and there was nothing more he wanted than for the two to just kiss already. They almost did, once, at someone’s birthday party when they both nursed a bottle of tequila. But Dylan never told them that, he wasn’t entirely sure if he dreamt it, if he was honest.

“Just go talk to her, be honest,” Dylan said with a light chuckle, nudging Luke towards the porch steps.

Luke’s legs stopped stiff, and spun to face Dylan in protest, “No! What do I even say? ‘Oh, hey y/n I know we’ve been friends for a while, but I’m in love with you haha hope this doesn’t make it awkward’? Like, come on.” With the way Dylan’s grin turned almost menacing, Luke felt his heart almost stop, his stupidity catching up with him, “This stays between us, Duker.”

He groaned and watched Dylan giggle his way back inside. Wingman or menace? Fine line, but at least he was better than Jack. Who quite literally tried trapping him and y/n in a closet when he found out, hoping for the best. Perhaps Dylan would actually help him get somewhere, he’d spent many parties coaxing Luke into making a move but Luke being the humble soul he took pride in, let her have her peace. Oh, how much he regretted it every time he heard her laugh because of another guy.

Thankfully the docks were at the far end of his garden, out of earshot and almost out of sight, if you weren’t spying. He stood silently, just taking in her very existence alone. If she weren’t wearing his hoodie so proudly, he would’ve sat down by now but the heat that flushed into his cheeks prominently just had to ease before he could show his face. Maybe she’d find it cute that his face flushed so easily, or maybe she’d think he was a fool for thinking he had a chance. Girls were hard to read, so many codes and hints, he couldn’t keep up with them all and God forbid you had an ugly code name. Watching her like that did raise the thought, what was his code name? Did he really want to know?

“I can feel you starin’,” her voice chimed, their eyes meeting as she craned her neck, “you gonna join or just stand?”

Luke’s lips pulled into his famous half-smirk, “I like lookin’ at pretty things, can you blame a man?” He sat next to her, thigh to thigh, shoulder to shoulder like they usually did, the weight of his boldness lifting off his chest. “What’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

“Who said I was thinking about anything? Maybe I was finally catching a break from the zoo. Maybe I was thinking that you need a haircut.” Her laugh was like music to his ears, her voice his favourite song and every word that rolled off her tongue felt like ecstasy surging through him and freezing the world around them.

Spending a summer in a lake house was the only way y/n ever wanted to live. An oasis of serenity and laughs, endless memories, and an escape. But while she dipped her toes in the water, watching her reflection ripple, the everlasting thought that it was fleeting crawled its way back to the surface whether she wanted it to or not. The boys had been doing this longer than she had, it was her first time at the lake house and possibly her last. But there was nothing wrong with enjoying it while it lasted, being trapped under the same roof as the boys wasn’t as bad as she’d assumed. Except for the smells, they were straight-up disrespectful. Would she still love it as much if she was with other friends? Hard to say, if Luke was there, everything would be fine. Maybe a couple more girls would’ve been nice too, though.

“Please, you’re staring blankly, don’t try me.” Luke scoffed playfully, shoulder gently nudging hers as she rolled her eyes, unable to resist a gleaming smile. As much as she wanted to rebuttal, he was right. They’d met on the first week of university, Luke starting hockey practice and y/n starting as their new social girl and since then the pair of them had been two peas in a pod. Completely enamoured with each other, attached at the hip, where Luke went, he’d bring y/n, his person.  “Wait, you think I need a haircut? Is it that bad?”

She laughed, Luke, stooping so she could thread her fingers through his unruly curls gently, something only she was allowed to do, “Nah, I like your hair long, cut it and I’ll cut you.” They pulled back, sitting in their original postures and watched the sun’s pinks fade to oranges, “I was thinking about how many girls you’ve brought here.”

He blinked twice, turning his head slowly to face her and to his surprise his eyes met hers. There was a gloss to them, illuminated brightly by the sunset but like glass as if she were about to break. Heart beating in his ears, he licked his lips, almost quivering when he began to speak.

“Just you.” His voice just above a whisper, husky, “Only you. Always you.” Their gazes lingered, and his eyes fluttered to her lips for just a split second before he found himself licking his lips again, feeling his throat dry at the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled. His heart ached, he didn’t have half the guts the Fantilli brothers did, if he had then maybe he would’ve at least wrapped his arm around her. Instead, he sat like he was paralysed, just shoulder to shoulder as she rubbed her bare foot against his leg, their skins touching, lighting little fires up his body and his stomach gaining a warmth he’d only felt in the after-hours of his bedroom.

“Lu?” she rested her head on his shoulder, staring back out towards the horizon, “Do you ever feel like you’re so far behind the people around you? Like you’re missing out.”

Luke leaned his head against hers, almost nuzzling into it as he thought. It was a heavy question, one that’d been weighing on her for a while. Or he assumed, considering she’d never openly asked the group. That’s what made him feel special. Her feet hung still, ending their teasing game and just fell limp. He exhaled, could he let his pride go and agree? Or could he completely one-up himself and disagree, which made him braver? He loathed the storms she started in him, thoughts he never imagined he would think in his hockey brain. One girl could change his entire train of thought, change his heartbeat, change his mood. One woman he pined like a lost puppy over.

“Sometimes. What do you mean?”

“Like, all my friends have these insane hook-ups and embarrassing sex stories and I have nothing. Yeah, I’ve had boyfriends before, but I was younger and stupid then. I go out with my friends and I’m basically invisible to any guy who approaches us, just feel unlovable. And now here I am, twenty years old and a fucking virgin with little experience and no wild stories.” She vented, barely taking a breath as the words spilt from her mouth. Luke’s chest twisted, his face softening when she snuggled into his side. “I don’t know where I’m going wrong, Lu.”

He paused and bit his lip when he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her body into his chest. She melted into his touch, getting a whiff of his woody, amber cologne, her favourite one at that, the one he always wore. She’d never had the chance to properly relish in his touch, was his chest always this firm? Arms always bring this much security? Fuck, when did his hand get so sexy when on her body, gliding down her arm to nestle in the curve of her waist. With her ear pressed to him, the thundering in his chest surrendered his cover entirely. Cool and collected Luke Hughes was secretly a bumbling mess.

“I get you.” he finally spoke, ears burning when her finger traced shapes on his thigh, “My entire life has been hockey, so not a lot of space for experiences either. Not enough time for relationships between practice and games, development camps and time with family. A lot of the girls who liked me didn’t really like that. That or they liked my brothers and friends more, they are a lot more attractive than me, so I don’t blame them. M’just average.”

Y/n pulled away almost instantly, her eyebrows knitted and jaw agape. For a moment she thought she heard him wrong, ‘a lot more attractive than me’, ‘just average’? Delving into Luke’s psyche turned out to be an entirely different road trip than she had thought, heartstrings tugged as her lips fell to a frown. Who in the world made him feel like that? Who did she need to hunt down? But then again, Luke’s blood boiled hearing how insignificant she felt and who exactly made her think that to start with?

“Luke Hughes you are not average! You’re the hottest guy I know!” she yelped, the hand that drew gentle patterns now clutching his thigh tight. Luke gulped but didn’t retract away from the noise. His brain was too busy short-circuiting over the fact her fingers were dangerously close to his crotch, doing his best to contain himself with slow breaths, “They just didn’t give you a chance, if they really knew you, they’d be heads over heels. You’re so fucking smart, and passionate. And-and if they saw you smile for real, not a half-smile, your full smile with your teeth, the one that feels like a warm summer’s day. It’s their loss, they’ll never know how sweet you are, that after a bad game, you want steak and head scratches, that you’re sentimental as fuck- like you wear that Yankees hat because Quinn got it for you when you fell ill and couldn’t make the game. You’re not average.”

Luke blinked, once, twice and thrice as her eyes bored into his, glazed with fire as the words tumbled from her mouth and circled his head. He watched the way her body rose and fell as she caught her breath, the grip on his thigh tightening and heat rising through his body. He felt the sweat building on the back of his neck, his collar suddenly becoming too tight. She thought he was hot? She remembered such little details about him like they’d known each other since they were kids. The hand around her waist slid to her lower back, his thumb rubbing the fabric of her (his) hoodie unconsciously.

He smiled, his warm smile she mentioned, where his eyes wrinkled and his chin tilted up triumphantly, “The hottest guy you know, huh?”

Y/n’s face dropped. Never in her life had she experienced her heart stop the way it did hearing those words. She stared like a deer in headlights, she slipped up and the heat rushing to her cheeks burned. This is what happens when you let your feelings take over, you make a fool of yourself in front of the one person who would never want to. She sighed, hung her head and hid her face in her hands, the butterflies in her stomach choking her when Luke let out a saccharine chuckle that made all the flowers bloom.

Large, warm hands wrapped around her wrists with a feather touch, and slowly pulled her hands away from her face and into her lap, soothing her nerves with a gentle rubbing of her knuckles with his thumbs. Although his hands felt clammy, the tingling in his stomach became too addicting to care about it too much anymore.

“Don’t hide,” she was radiant under what was left of the tangerine hues, eyes almost sparkling, “let me see that pretty face.”

She hesitantly raised her head, eyes meeting his and her body relaxed. She had no idea why she was so embarrassed, he hadn’t gagged, laughed in her face nor had he physically repulsed. Instead, he looked at her like she’d hung out the stars for him, wide eyes with rose-tinted ears.

“I think you’re very pretty too. Beautiful even, I-“ he hesitated, “you have no idea how many times I’ve thought about kissing you, asking you out. Honestly, the idea of you rejecting me is terrifying so I never did, plus, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and I didn’t wanna fuck it up.”

Her eyes fluttered to his lips, the world around them falling silent until it was just them in their own bubble. Luke gulped, his eyeline following the way she flickered between his eyes and his mouth before he found their bodies leaning into one another, noses ghosting. His hands released her wrists, one arm snaking around her waist sending an electric tingle through her veins and holding her firmly close. They’d been this close before, sure. Multiple occasions of having his arms around the back of the sofa they sat snug on, arm hooked around her shoulders because some guy couldn’t get the memo at bars, in fact, the root cause of their problem was undeniably because everyone assumed they were together except them.

Y/n’s palm held his cheek tenderly, the hot, carnal desire to devour the boy only being released from its cage when he melted into her touch as if he was opening his doors to vulnerability.

“I can teach you if you like,” she whispered, her thumb tracing across his bottom lip. Luke’s fingers gripped her waist as if she couldn’t be any closer than she already was, but he couldn’t risk letting her slip from his grasp again. He wanted to erase all those other guys who’d kissed her, he would be the last guy on Earth to taste the lips that words and giggles laced with a honey-like sweetness that cradled his heart.

“God, please-“  his heart beat twice as fast, y/n leaning in, closing the gap between them and pressing her lips gently to his. If he were to die right there, he’d die the happiest man alive. Her lips were soft and warm, igniting every firework inside of him and adrenaline shaking him back to life. He could do this for hours, drinking in her citrus fragrance, lips mimicking the way she moved hers against his. If she was a match, he was kerosene and he’d let her set him ablaze over and over if it meant he could feel like the only man in the world until the end of time.

They pulled away, eyes fluttering open to an exchange of giggly smiles. Despite it being a closed-mouth kiss, nothing extra, just soft and sweet, Luke’s thoughts raced at a million miles per hour. All the weight on his shoulders lifted and he nuzzled into her palm, placing a kiss on it.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, his puppy-like gaze almost distracting her from how his skin burned pink in her palm. But in a way, all her previous anxieties dissipated like dust in the wind, tummy flipping at the pathetically sweet and lovestruck expression spread on Luke’s face, “Your face is so red. Are you okay?-”

“-Can we do that again?” He pleaded, quickly, desperately, a certain yearning feeling on his lips that he couldn’t quite describe, except that he needed to taste her again. He needed more, so much more to quench his thirst, a kind of fuzziness he felt in his core.

“Uh- yeah, let me show you what a real kiss is.” No hesitation was needed, y/n’s hand slid from his cheek to the nape of his neck, fingers carding through his curls as she roughly connected their lips again, messier, teeth chattering from the impact. Luke’s other hand found comfort on her thighs, pulling them over his lap and giving gentle squeezes, moaning when y/n bit his lower lip. He opened his mouth with ease, failing to hold back another moan when her tongue lapped his. He wasn’t sure how to react, he’d never made out with anyone and it’s not like his brothers would’ve explained it well either. So, he repeated her movement, his tongue dancing with hers with saliva lubricating their lips each time they dove back in to devour each other. Y/n tugged his curls lightly, pulling him closer, savouring the kindling arousal leaking into her panties with the way he craved her.

Luke pulled away to breathe, his chest heavy but shorts becoming tight with the intense and fiery eye contact that screamed nothing but lust, “You,” he kissed her again, fervently, “taste,” another kiss, “amazing.” He mumbled into her lips and their tongues stirred again, whimpers drawing from the back of her throat when his hand travelled further up her thigh, under her shorts and found solace on the skin only he could touch. Any further and she couldn’t promise she wouldn’t pounce, her underwear was soaked through and sticking to her folds and even one measly brush on her clit would open the floodgates.

A foreign burst of confidence washed over him, and he detached their lips, a string of saliva between them and her hand still tugging at his curls and whether intentional or not, he discovered something carnal clawing away inside him. Wetting his lips, he dove into her neck, planting wet kisses along her column and nipping in the hope of hearing her mewl again. Y/n tilted her head to the side, giving him free rein over her skin and her jaw slacking, whining his name with her thighs clenching together for any kind of friction. As he began to run his hand along her thigh, his pocket vibrated continuously, earning a growl to rumble from his throat.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” y/n whined, hand falling from his hair to his chest. Luke pulled his phone from his pocket with a disgruntled look, of course, his moment was ruined. Swiping the notification away, he clicked his tongue, sliding his phone back into his shorts.

His arms wrapped around her waist, and looked back into her adoring yet disappointed eyes, “Dylan wants to know if we’re joining them for a movie.”

“I’m quite happy staying here with you.”

“Who says we have to watch the whole movie?”

Silence hung over the living room, only the TV blaring and the light crunching of popcorn from different directions. The lights were off, just the TV and three boys crammed on one sofa, and three plus y/n on the other. Luke, y/n, Rutger and Adam on the sectional directly opposite the TV, Luke occupying the end with the chaise for his legs, and y/n sat between them and huddled under a blanket. Rutger sat in the middle with Adam on the furthest end. Dylan, Luca and Ethan huddled together on the sofa adjacent to the TV, popcorn littered between them from missing mouths and flinching.

Luke’s hands wrapped around her waist, keeping her snug against his chest while she slowly chewed Haribo’s, feeding them to him now and then. While his heart skipped beats, feeling like a meadow of tulips blooming in the Spring, y/n’s wiggling against his crotch lured all the heat and butterflies from earlier straight back to his stomach, sending it into twists and turns. Heat flushed to his neck when she pushed her arse back into him, in an innocent attempt to readjust. A deep exhale through his nose and his hands slithered to her thighs, fingers kneading the flesh like dough as his head dipped into her shoulder, breath hot on the skin and making her hairs stand on edge.

“Stop wigglin’, pretty girl,” he whispered into the shell of her ear, placing a kiss, “you’re drivin’ me crazy.”

She froze, body falling limp into his as he ran his hands under her hoodie, his stiffened cock poking into her backside as she caught on to what his problem was. The sex-deprived whore in her awakened with a jolt, his cock solid because of her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to feel him pressed up against her, unable to find his release and have the rasp of his voice reverberate through her being as her vibrator. 

“And if I don’t?” she whispered back, as close to him as possible without being heard. Instead of answering, Luke dipped his fingers down her shorts, middle finger brushing against her clothed clit. His eyes locked to the screen in front of him, resisting the urge to smirk when her breath hitched but continuing to glide his finger – in what was a lucky guess – over her bundle. She squirmed, clamping her thighs together, only to have them pried open by his free hand.

“Be a good girl and keep quiet, unless you want to be caught.” His playful tone sent chills down her spine, goosebumps swarming on her neck but melting into his touch. She plopped another sweet into her mouth, chewing intensely when Luke drew his long fingers away, only for her to feel them caress over her skin, cold on her warm body, and down her panties. To describe the sensation that zipped through her when the pad of his middle finger reunited with her clit would be the same shock if you were to be struck by lightning: sudden and sharp, rattling up the spine.

Y/n placed the bag of sweets in her lap, tucking both hands under the blanket with the hope of seeming less suspicious, but her hand skimmed down his arm and placed itself on his, slowly guiding his movements on her nub until he got the idea. Firm yet gentle circular movements, the slick seeping from her warm on his fingertips, so inviting he wished he could have a taste. She pulled the blanket to her chin, not only to cover Luke’s sudden mood but to form some form of distraction from the fuzzy feeling rising to her head. No, she’d never had this before, so the experience itself embraced her tight, addicting like nicotine.

He kissed her temple, two fingers sliding into her cunt almost perfectly, too perfect that another Haribo was abused between her teeth as her breathing struggled to remain neutral. The moan that would’ve slipped past if she hadn’t been concentrating would’ve been embarrassing enough. Luke began languid plunges into her, relishing in the way her walls squeezed his fingers tight, keeping shallow at first. The more her pussy swallowed him in their wetness, the faster his mind spiralled in greed and his pace sped up, y/n’s nails digging deep into his leg, leaving crescent shapes on the skin. The heat pooling in her stomach was riveting, knowing she would finally have an insane story to tell even more so. No one could say that Luke Hughes’ tongue tasted theirs like it was the best meal he’d ever lapped up and that he’d watched a movie with his friends while pushing the limits of both his and their sanity publicly.

With a rush of adrenaline and her nails marking him, he buried his fingers deep into her cunt, driving swiftly and curling in places that made her wriggle against him, his free hand having to hold her hips still with a bruising grip and his cock begged for attention in his shorts. Y/n popped two more sweets in her mouth, relying on their gummy nature to suppress the moans that threatened to tear through her as the knot inside her came dangerously close to snapping with the way he bullied her pussy with his bare hands. His breathing fell deep and shuddered, his heart infatuated with the ecstasy of finger-fucking the woman of his dreams in front of an entire room of his friends hammered in his chest while his face struggled to stay indifferent and jaw tight like his cock isn't throbbing violently and straining against her arse. Like she wasn’t bucking her hips into his touch like he couldn’t tell that her heart was going haywire because of just him alone. If this was what foreplay was like, the idea of piledriving balls deep in her until she couldn’t remember her name was divine.

He dragged out his last pumps, the knot in her stomach snapping and coating his fingers in hot, sticky release, kissing her temple upon her body physically shuddering. Y/n pulled the blanket up to her chin as if she had shivered naturally, stuffing her mouth into the fluffy material. Luke pulled his fingers out, wiping the residue on his shorts, practically drooling over the image of milking her dry. His arms snaked around her waist, snuggling close. Y/n sighed, slumping back into him. On the outside Luke was his collected and cool self, his breathing stable and attention on the movie, the heat in his face and hands that rested on her stomach, soothing her heart rate screamed that he was the happiest guy in the room. With every gentle stroke of his thumb on the flesh of her stomach, her heart soothed and her eyelids became increasingly heavier.

"Was that story worthy?" He whispered, kissing her cheek sweetly.

Luke’s pocket buzzed and he tutted, carefully sliding it from his pocket and unlocking it, trying his best to prevent the screen from blinding everyone.

Duker idk if ur freaky or brave u dog

Luke closed his phone and looked up towards Dylan, who sat with a shit-eating grin. He smiled and shook his head, mouthing a subtle, ‘this stays between us’.

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[gladiatorcunt]

summary: paul atreides x plus sized afab servant!reader

cw: power imbalance, somnophilia (dubcon in my mind as the reader wouldn’t push him away if they woke up but feel free to skip this if you could feel icked out by it), petplay (cheated again and didn’t make it explicit but it’s very petplay coded in a way), size difference (paul’s the skinny bf that would fall over if a gust of wind was strong enough), paul eats reader out, crack treated seriously vibes bc he’s so awkward 💀, ambiguous somno occasion (like how the reader fell asleep), implications of improper use of the voice but it’s weak for this paul era so reader could probably push against it, possible dune lore inaccuracies idk don’t think just vibe

wc: 1k +

block & move on if uncomfortable !!!

don’t repost, translate, or give ai my work

kinktober masterlist

You’re having the same dream again. Paul Atreides, the duke’s son who you are tasked with looking after is the star.

He looms over you as you lie flat on your back, though in your dream you’re never in your servant’s quarters. No, the surrounding walls bear a more striking resemblance to Paul’s bedroom. You’re always groggy in the dream, which is a strange feeling to have when you usually are profoundly awake in your other dreams.

You’ve only been having this one since you arrived on Caladan from a smaller planet with no name that they took ownership of. Paul Atreides had seemed to seek you out like a moth to a flame, making a beeline for you and demanding in front of your mother that his father hire you. Even weirder was the fact that the ships belonging to the Atreides left immediately after you agreed to go with them, as if the trip had only one purpose.

“Shh, mouse, it’s just me. Don’t wake up.” He whispers, nuzzling his nose against yours and pecking your lips.

You lie there in a daze, eyes wide and mouth agape as Paul reaches for the fastenings of your top. It’s an orange silk number he gifted you, all your clothes are. Your breaths come out in shallow pants, the disbelief that Paul Atreides would be disrobing you with the intent to bed you is overwhelming. He gives your plush curves loving squeezes as he reveals more and more skin.

Eventually you’re stark naked under him. You sluggishly try to cover yourself with your hands but Paul swiftly knocks them aside, pinning them to your sides so he can drink in the mouth watering image. You have no idea how many dreams he has had of you, ones concerning moments like these and ones about the life you’ll experience together in between. A gaggle of tiny feet playing tag around his throne, domestic mornings of blissful silence waltzing in the dining room.

“I…. I have never seen anyone as beautiful as you, i swear it.” Your heart skips a beat, despite knowing very well that this is all some passing fancy. Dreams never have to see the light of day, so you can luxuriate in your delusions.

Paul leans down to shakily mouth at your collarbone, scraping his teeth against the skin and playing with your love handles. You whimper as he litters your rough skin with love bites, you open your mouth to apologize that it’s not as smooth as a noble consort’s would be, but something in the way he shoves his tongue in your mouth to silence you tells you he somehow already knows.

You poke and pull at his dark shirt, the fine black material feeling like heaven but you’d rather it cover your garments next to the bed.

Paul chuckles, nipping at your lips and pulling back to shirk his clothing off. He throws it across the room and goes back to kissing his way down your thick body. Once he reaches your stomach, he takes extra special care to dote on the rolls of skin, softly kissing and pressing his forehead against them.

“You would be a beautiful bride, you know…”

“Um… thank you, sir.” You squirm, all the attention on someone like you from someone like your employer’s son becoming too real. The Paul Atreides would sooner be lost to the sands of Arrakis than utter those words to you in the waking world, but perhaps your long harbored infatuation has leaked into your subconscious.

He smiles, as if charmed by your shyness. “You’re welcome, mouse.”

His favorite nickname for you, given to you due to your adorable scurrying around to avoid others and shy high pitched squeaks that you use instead of words. (Also because he saw you crouch in a corner and nibble on a piece of bread that you had managed to snag from the table.)

He sits back on his heels to grab your thighs, the skin bulging in between his fingers. He draws you into a slow and sensual kiss as he pushes them apart and sinks into the empty space. You squeak in shock when you feel something stiff press against your wet pussy, but Paul only shushes you in your head and you relax again.

“Mmm~” He hums, flicking his tongue against the seam of your lips and lifting himself to hover over you once more.

He winks before tightening his grip on your thighs and stretching them wide enough for him to slink down and have access to the small hole at their apex.

You jolt when he presses a soft kiss to the top of your mound. You squeak and try to close your thighs around his head but he doesn’t let you, keeping your thighs pinned to the bed and licking a flat stripe up your pussy.

“So sweet, mouse….” Paul grins and repeats the motion a few times. “I could just spread you out over the table whenever I need to eat.”

You moan at the attention, desperately wishing that you could grind against Paul’s mouth but it feels like something more than his grip is holding you back, something about the touch seeming too vivid. You shake the thought away and sink your fingers into his hair, brushing any strays away from his face as he moves to suck on your clit.

He hollows out his cheeks a bit to get better suction on your fat clit. Paul nuzzles his face as deep into you as he can possibly get, the chubby lips of your pussy sandwiching his nose. You wrench your eyes shut as your pleasure builds and builds, but a single thin finger eases into your hole right as you’re about to tumble over the edge. The intrusion isn’t painful so much as it is entirely foreign to you, the second finger goes in much easier.

The combination of eating you out and finger fucking you makes the knot in you stomach blessedly come undone. Paul swallows it all down like there’s no better substance in the grand scheme of the universe.

You hope to have this dream again tomorrow, even at the cost of being able to look Paul Atreides in the eyes.

[astorianyxkings]

Oldest Daughter Dick™ is probably one of my favourite things ever. And it always will be and here's why:

Of course Dick loves his siblings and of course he loves that they know Bruce as the father he is. But it won't stop the jealousy he feels. And no one gets it, not even Jason. They were all raised by Bruce Wayne, he was raised by Batman.

When Dick came to live with him, Bruce had no idea how to he a father. How to handle normal kid stuff like sicknesses and school events let alone the fact he was an acrobat. He was Batman and Dick was raised to be not just his successor but the only contingency plan he had against himself.

Bruce never held his punches ("That was a good block but I still got you, didn't I?" Bruce had said, rubbing cream into the blossoming bruise on Dick's side. "I'll get you next time," Dick had promised, young eyes challenging. "You better." Bruce had grinned back.) All attacks were to remind him that he was at a disadvantage strength wise and thus needed to re-evaluate his lines of defense and offense.

Dick was raised by the paranoid-in-his-late-twenties-probably-shouldn't-be-a-dad-despite-what-Marisol-said Bat. A fun game of catch? He was dodging Batarangs. Learning to drive? It was the Batmobile and he was age 14 (and a half). School events? He was fumbling, awkward and did not want to be there (but still was because he'll be damned if his boy didn't have his support.)

And you know that's fine, Dick was fine. It wasn't Bruce's fault he didn't know how to be a proper dad, despite Alfred's parenting books and videos. And he did try, he was always there. But it just really hits a sore spot everytime he sees Bruce hold a punch before he knocks Tim out cold or when he's behind the wheel with Steph telling her what not to do. Or even when he's at school with Damian and Duke making Marjory and her cupcakes look ridiculous compared to him and his coconut crumble cakes.

It also irritates Dick beyond senseless whenever the topic of sparring with Bruce is mentioned. ("We can all beat the old man Goldie, he's ancient." Jason shrugs off and Dick wanted to scream.) The only one who even tries to sympathize with him was Cass. More than likely because she'd seen him fight as Batman The Dark Knight before seeing him fight as Bruce The Father of Six-Almost-Eight.

And it just really stings because he can't relate to being raised by Bruce the way the others can't. Bruce changed for them, not him. And maybe that kind of hurts. But maybe he's overreacting.

What he doesn't realize is he's the reason why Bruce changed. Bruce saw the hurt and anger in Dick's eyes when he fired him from Robin (Think Shifu denying Tai Lung the Dragon Warrior scroll). He knew the second he saw the betrayal in Dick's eyes after seeing Jason as Robin, that he'd have to change. (The same way Shifu should've changed for Tigress but I digress, not that fandom).

Bruce pulls his punches because he hated seeing Dick limp away from their sparring matches—despite the fire and promise of a rematch in his eyes. He teaches them how to drive regular cars before the Batmobile because the one time Dick crashed (while trying to avoid some of Poison Ivy's vines) his heart rate skyrocketed so high Clark had called him up demanding to know if he was okay. He shows up for Duke and Damian and Cass and Tim because Dick's smile whenever he saw Bruce in the parent's lounge never failed to make him melt.

Bruce stands firm on the fact that while he may have made a hero out of Dick, Dick Grayson made a father out of Bruce Wayne.

[rpgchoices]

The final round of the Tournament of favorite tumblr rpg male romance (gosh that's long) sees Wyll Ravengard from Baldur's Gate 3 vs Garrus from Mass Effect.

Wyll Ravengard, hero of the Coast, the man who is too forgiving and a bit too easily charmed, the hero who tried to use the "do you even know who I am? the son of the duke" at least once, distrusting gods and devils since whatever year Baldur's Gate 3 is set in, a romantic at heart and someone who still believes in the tales of old!

vs

Garrus Vakarian a turian who will always have your side, and who can sometimes be pretty awkward and incredibly charming?? The OG loyal space husband, always calibrating. It is said there is no Shepard without Vakarian, and yes, hearing him say that will probably make some people (me) tear up!

Funny enough... they both DANCE.

(screenshots of the Garrus pics credits: x, x, x, x; The Wyll ones are from my games)

[jeding-png]

Chapter 152 or "Yes, btch, I'll make you cry."

Let's go through the list... this chapter had a lot of character tears, a lot of reader tears... and my angst radar was broken in general.

"You are my daughter too, Penelope."

I was pleasantly surprised to see the scenes where Reynold and Derrick tell the Duke that Ivonne is missing.

Reynold's tears, the pain and guilt on Derrick's face... and in the end as Pennel is the only one who sees the Duke's true pain over the loss of his daughter.

Without exaggeration, I love this chapter. I love the last two chapters. And while I wanted the coming-of-age ceremony to finally be shown...I realized I needed the Duke and Penelope talking. I needed all these frames, from the first to the last.

I feel that little Og Penelope's smile has fooled me. This sunshine mercilessly broke my heart-!

Thanks to this chapter, we were able to see the scene of the meeting between the Duke and Og Penelope in a different way. Thanks to this chapter, we are more sensitive to the moment of Penelope's adoption.

And this is not Cha Siyeon. This is the girl who disappeared in the prologue of the manhwa and the novel.

The girl who didn't hear all the words... the girl who didn't feel the warmth of said father's awkward embrace.

"Goodbye, father."

Thanks, @red-hot-temper , for showing the new chapters!

[iwritefandomimagines]

FIRST AND LAST — PRINCE FRIEDRICH

masterlist

pairing: prince friedrich x reader

description: it has been tradition all season long that prince friedrich occupies your first and last dance of every evening. it is well known that his engagement is looming, so no man dares ask to take these dances from him. that is, until one clueless lord makes that awkward mistake.

warnings: pure fluff, tiny bit of jealousy from my sweet prince, but predominantly pure, tooth-rotting fluff !

“The season is almost over,” Daphne Bridgerton hummed, flitting her fan across her chest as you stood at the edge of the ballroom, “Do you think the prince might propose this evening?”

You laughed, watching as the prince eyed you from across the floor despite dancing with another young lady.

“I hope so,” you replied, pure happiness in your tone as you thought of the future you had discussed so extensively with the man who had won your heart with such ease, “Though he himself requested a long courtship. Oh, Daph, you should’ve heard him. He told me he was certain he was falling in love with me and wished to wed, but that he wanted to prolong our courtship to ensure I too was certain.”

“Gosh, Y/N, how romantic,” Daphne grinned.

“He is absolutely a dream,” you fanned yourself now too, growing flushed at the thought of just how deeply your feelings for the Prussian prince ran, “I of course told him I feel the same regardless, but he said that though he’d wed me in a heartbeat, it was fun to pretend we were still in the early stages of courting. And of course, I save every first and last dance for him and only him.”

Daphne was swooning at the prospect, and given her confusing situation regarding her ruse with the Duke, their sudden marriage, and how in love they quite clearly were, you were unsurprised that she was so excited to hear that your blossoming relationship was thriving so.

“Speaking of which, my dear friend,” she lifted your dance card from your wrist to see that as ever Prince Friedrich’s name graced the bottom of your card, “It appears you have danced with all others.”

As you looked away from her, you saw the prince smile in your direction, sending your heart into an absolute frenzy, “He appears to be on his way over!”

Before he could cross the floor, however, a gentleman you barely recognised obscured your view of the man you loved, stepping directly in front of you with a smile on his face.

“Lady Y/N,” the man bowed, “I am Lord Francis. I apologise for never making your acquaintance sooner, for my work and travels delayed my arrival in the Ton,” he took your hand to kiss its back, and as he leaned to do so you saw the prince behind him with a frown on his face, now mere meters away, “You are truly a diamond, and I should most certainly wish to know you more. You cannot imagine my relief upon seeing that you were yet unbetrothed. Might I have your next dance, my lady?”

You swallowed thickly, looking to Daphne for help but finding that she had slipped away amidst his little speech.

You were tempted to scoff at the man’s audacity to so abruptly ask of a dance at the end of the evening when he had chosen so late in the hall to introduce himself. And, of course, you were entirely uninterested.

Before you had the opportunity to respond, however, Prince Friedrich was at the man’s side.

“Ah, Lady Y/N,” he bowed, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it that lingered as he looked up at you and made you swoon, “Each time I see you in that necklace I am reminded why I selected it for you. It was made for you, to be sure.”

You giggled shyly, both feeling giddy around the man you loved and at the clear reason for his choice of words. He was here to assert his place, jealousy coursing through his royal blood.

“Oh your highness,” you curtsied, “Thank you again for the beautiful gift. I was wondering when you might return to share my last dance, as always. I do so look forward to it,” you flashed your dance card to the rather impertinent Lord Francis with a falsified frown, “I do apologise, my lord, but I have not yet shared my final dance with anyone but the Prince. And I do not wish to change that tradition.”

The gentleman scampered away without another word, leaving the prince to capture you in his arms and lead you to the dance floor.

“I am certainly glad to be rid of that fool,” he grumbled, and you reached up to run your thumb along his cheekbone soothingly, internally frustrated that the action would end up in Lady Whistledown’s writings the next day.

Your voice was barely above a whisper, “Oh my love, you needn’t worry. You know that if I could I would dance only with you the entire night.”

The prince was more than satisfied with this, a broad smile gracing his strong features as you continued the rhythm of the waltz you found yourself in.

“I am pleased to hear that, to be sure,” he beamed, “And once this dance is through, I hoped we might have a moment to talk. Perhaps on the balcony?”

You nodded softly, “Any moment with you, I could never deny myself.”

He smiled, and as the dance drew to a close you found yourself growing nervous.

Had this small moment of jealousy spurred on a proposal? Or perhaps he had always intended to propose tonight?

Perhaps it was not a proposal at all, and he just wished for some fresh air and a chance to chatter away from the eyes and ears of the ballroom?

You caught Daphne’s eye as you followed the prince outside, noticing her eyes widen in excitement as she too expected you to return to the ballroom engaged.

You bit your lip, allowing yourself to share her excitement for just a moment before nerves slipped into your mind again.

You reached the balcony after what felt like hours, with time seeming to progress in slow motion as you waited to hear what it was the prince wished to discuss.

“My dearest Lady Y/N,” he began, capturing both of your hands in his as his eyes twinkled down at you in the moonlight, “You must know that since we met, you have been the sun around which I revolve. You captured my heart the very moment I first saw you, and with every discussion of a future I have grown more certain that it is with you I wish to build a life, a home, a family,”

“Oh my dear prince,” you were certain you could taste blood, your heart pounding with anticipation as it truly sunk in just what was going on, “You must know that the feeling has always been entirely reciprocated. Every moment I have spent with you has been blissful, and I rather selfishly wish for an eternity of such moments.”

He shook his head, “It is not at all selfish, my dove. For it is what I wish for too. An eternity with the love of my life at my side, wherever we might find ourselves.”

You shared a brief moment of comfortable silence, staring into each other’s eyes as you could think about nothing but his gentle touch and romantic words.

He was everything you could’ve dreamed of in a man, and now here he was professing that he too was enamoured by you.

Even though he had made it quite clear how he felt before, in this very second everything felt as though it fell perfectly into place.

The true love you always dreamed of finding but never expected to… He was right here, about to ask for your hand and sweep you off of your feet.

“It is for this very reason, my love,” he began again, keeping his hold of your left hand but dropping to his knee in a split second, “That I find myself desperate to ask — will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?”

“My gosh!” you exclaimed, nodding excitedly as he slipped the most beautiful ring onto your finger and rose to his feet again, “I would love to. I can think of no future more exciting than one as your wife.”

He kissed your hand again, now peppering kisses around the ring he had just given you, sending sparks throughout your body at his delicate touch.

“I cannot wait to begin our life together properly, as man and wife,�� he grinned, reaching to push a stray hair from your face as he spoke, “Free of meddlesome gentlemen who have no regard for one’s prior commitment.”

“My darling, you truly had no need to worry,” you giggled, lifting your free hand to your mouth to stifle it a little, “He could not hold a candle to you, and I would never have given up my dance with you for him. I wish always for my first and last dance to be with you… And every dance in between.”

He pulled you flush to his chest now, spinning you softly to the faint sound of the orchestral tune still playing in the ballroom.

“Then my every dance is yours, my love,” he hummed, discreetly pressing a gentle kiss to your temple as he spun you around, “Always and forever.”

“I love you,” you were truly in a state of pure bliss as you danced, choosing to ignore that you were most certainly being watched, “More than I can ever express.”

“I love you as such also, my future princess,” he replied, pausing your dance just to look at you intently again for just a second before he spoke, “And I shall spend our whole life showing you.”

“I am so incredibly lucky to have fallen in love with you,” you shook your head in disbelief, still smiling up at him.

“It is I who is lucky,” he disagreed, looking up into the night sky littered with stars, “And the stars in the sky are lucky to every day be graced with your existence too.”

“You flatter me, my love.”

“And I intend to continue to remind you how wonderful you are, my dove,” he practically whispered, dipping his head lower so that you could feel his breath fanning over your face, though not close enough to induce any more scandal than your balcony dance might already have done.

“It’s a pleasure to be forever your first and last dance… And I can only hope to be your first and last love, if you would let me. For you most certainly shall be mine.”

“You shall be mine too, my love. I am certain of it.”

———

ok fluffy af because i am currently in looove with the prince and idk where it came from but i had to write this once i had the idea!!!

if you have any requests (right now preferably bridgerton, djats or criminal minds) then please feel free to send them in and i’ll make a start this week!

also pleaaase let me know in comments/reblogs what you think!

in the meantime, here is my masterlist!

[angstmongertina]

re: fictional character expert - that bespectacled motherfucker whose name I think is Lyon

LMAO I figured that he would come up, and I am also greatly amused at your description of him.

I would not necessarily call myself the foremost expert in Duke Lyon, but perhaps a scholar in the art of understanding him.

(Thanks for playing lol. <3)

[threepandas]

Bad End - Chosen: Part 2

Back <- | -> Next

When I remember the game, I mostly remember the outfits. The frills and ornate designs. In another life, I adored them. Now? They disgust me.

They disgust me because I know EXACTLY what it takes to make each and every dress the heroine so thoughtlessly runs through. Flinging herself through mud and climbing up trees in the name of be "plucky". Tearing them for bandages, as though she is not a SAINT with the power of the very GODS at her finger tips. All manner of so called "cute" actions that... that in reality?

Are thoughtless.

Needlessly, cruelly thoughtless.

It takes months to make even a single one of those dresses. Months. Heavy magic is involved. They defy gravity, are delicate and soft in ways no normal cloth could ever BE. The jewels on them? Ha. You think those came from earthly mines? Who could AFFORD that? No one. Not a single soul.

I once worked on some. For the daughter of a Duke. Awkward little thing. In turns, arrogant and insecure. More lonely then anything else. I was the first girl her age that WASN'T trying to use her for family or stab her in the back. It flustered her terribly. She kept coming up with reasons the dress "wasn't right" just so she could delay having to go home.

Never did admit to wanting to be friends.

But she DID graciously allow me to send her letters. Visit, on occasion.

I... I truely hope she made it out alive, when her Dukedom fell. Her family guarded the western front for generations. She was so stubborn. I... I doubt she fled. But in my heart? I hope she did.

I hope she was selfish.

Everyone else gets to be. That BITCH, gets to be. So why not her? Why not that insecure child? Bratty and bold? Why not Cordelia, who only ever wanted to make her bastard of a father proud? Why... w-why not me?

My anger isn't gone, when I open my eyes. But my exhaustion and sorrow are far stronger. I can't feel my magic. It would be a suprise too. What fool, after all, captures a Mage then let's them keep their access? Even a mouse is dangerous, given enough time, as the saying goes. And I was no mouse.

I hang in a remarkably pretty room, for a dungeon. My arms do not even strain. I suspect I am partially floating. Not enough for leverage, but enough that my weight is not hanging from my arms. I am merely anchored by them. It has the added benefit, I suspect, of keeping me from using the floor to aid in any escape plans.

There is a comfortable chair placed in front of where I hang. Ominous. Is my suffering going to be a show then? Some amusement? They'll be disappointed. I refuse to give them the satisfaction. I know people break. But I'll bite my tongue long befo-

My dark musings are cut off, by the quite sound of a door opening on well oiled hinges into a dead silent room. The crisp step of a powerful man, assured of his place, his path. The door is behind me, yet I already know who has just entered the room. Fear, rage, and confusion have already SEARED that scent into my brain. I will die knowing it.

I grit my teeth and refuse to acknowledge him.

"Awake and already in quite the mood, I see. Understandable, I suppose, Grandlearner." The MONSTER who has me, muses, his voice terribly pleasant. "You were in quite the wretched state. Still are, unfortunately, but we will be fixing that."

I want to hiss like a cat. It is beneath me. Would probably do nothing but amuse him. But I suddenly understand the animal more then I ever have before. If he gets near me, I will BITE. I swear to the very gods I DISPISE. I will do it!

He strolls into my field of vision holding a silver serving tray. Little dishes of finger foods. I have a sinking suspicion but immediately shove it away. No. No, it is probably for him. The tray is placed upon a side table, next to the chair. He hasn't looked at me directly yet. Merely fussing as though hosting a guest.

He stands up, finished. Turns. And SMILES.

The fear I have been so desperately trying to control breaks from of my desperate hands. I jerk back in the chains, as far as I am able. Cold sweat beading up across my skin. I can't run. Even if I could, this close? I'd never make it. But primal instincts do not listen to reason. Run, run, RUN! It HOWLS in my brain.

There has never been a more dangerous man.

He is not even threatening me.

He's just not hiding.

He hums, amused as I shake. Gentle steps forward. Gloved hands I can not escape. They cup my face as my lungs feel like they are burning with panic. Brain certain he is moments from tightening his grip, brutally, and snapping my neck. It never comes. His hands dangerously gentle. Stroking my cheeks possessively.

"Look at you... so malnourished. Barely trained at all. My poor Grandlearner," he all but sighs, as though he is looking at the proof of some great crime. Some failing against him. "Look how useless that boy has been. Dropping you in battlefields to do his job for him, while he goes panting after children a fraction his age. A lecherous failure at every turn. More a temple's dog then a mage."

The air has slowly turned to burning ice, as he grows angrier. But his eye flicks down to meet mine, no longer staring through me, but AT me. And his smile warms. It is a manic, mad man's warmth. Like the burning of a city. He slides his hands down to cup my neck, cradle my head. I freeze. Too afraid of the hands on my neck to protest as he leans forward to press a kiss to my forhead.

"Mmmm, but enough of that. No more bad thoughts. Let us focus on the now. You, my dear child, need to eat. And I have so much to LEARN about you! So many years lost between us. I have brought several dishes for you to try."

An incredulous laugh found itself trapped in my throat. Is he serious? He has me chained up like a trophy, has BUTCHERED my men, unknown intentions towards me, and he... what? Wants me to eat adorable little snacky treats?

He is completely serious.

And, I find out, has no problem forcing me to open my mouth. If I "can not behave myself", that is. I see, all to clearly, what his plan is. Stockholm Syndrome. Brainwashing. But... but being AWARE of something does not stop it from WORKING on you. How long can I hold out?

Longer then this cycle? Will he remember, as I do? Try to find me again? I don't know. Without my magic, I can not fight the fear. Even with my magic... he is the dragon to my ant. I can not even hope to match my Master, much less HIS Master. And the legendary Arch-Mage of Red? It would be easier to drain a lake with a spoon. Move a desert handful by handful.

Hands that have slaughtered countless, card themselves through my hair, as I am once again forced to eat some little decadence that tastes like ash and ruin on my tounge.

"See? Isn't this so much better?" He croons, too close and triumphant. A mockery of doting grandfather's everwhere. "With Grandmaster here, you'll never have worry about a thing. We'll correct your training, get you back where your supposed to be, and together? Fix this broken world. Be GODS. You'll be such a shining little God, sweet one. Spring, perhaps? We can pick the domain you want together~"

"I'll help you kill them. Take their heart and devour it. Then? Nothing will ever be able to take you from me ever again. No, not ever, ever again."

[22ayla19]

Wriothesley x Younger sister Clorinde! Reader

Summary: Let's imagine that Clorinda has a younger sister who is very different from her sister, thereby winning the heart of one tea lover from Meropid Fortress.

Due to your violent nature, you have been called a hooligan since childhood, unlike your sister, who was calm (although still, at times, she liked to participate in your pranks). Of course, you are still a hooligan, but no matter how you look at it, your rowdy behavior was harmless. The last thing you want to do is end up in court before Judex and embarrass your sister, who has become a judicial duelist. Clorinde was grateful to you for the fact that you tried to cause her as little problems as possible.

How you met the Duke of Meropide Fortress can be described by the word originality.

Even though you were still a hooligan, you are a lady with great ambition in love. It’s good to get married so that your husband doesn’t drink or smoke, and doesn’t cheat. But, unfortunately, your current (now ex) boyfriend cheated on you, for which you could not forgive him and left him. Oh, and how much he ran after you, apologized, said that you were deliberately ignoring him. A walking problem clung to you and could not disappear. It got to the point where he started saying with threats that you had to marry him.

- But I’d rather marry that guy than a piece of shit like you! – you pointed at the guy who passed by, who turned out to be Wriothesley. This was the first time Wriothesley was confused, especially after you came up and kissed him on the lips. Passersby are shocked, the ex-boyfriend is shocked, Wriothesley is shocked. With the threat that you will pay for your choice, the ex-boyfriend left, and you, asking the stranger for forgiveness, ran away. Wriothesley himself stood there in shock for another two minutes.

Arriving home, Clorinde wanted to ask how your day was, but seeing you depressed, she prepared tea and covered you with a blanket. You then told her about what happened, of course, it was awkward, but on the advice of your sister, you decided to make an official apology to the stranger. Little did she know that after staying with Wriothesley at Fortress of Meropide, he would tell him how a girl he didn’t know French kissed him to scare off his ex-boyfriend.

“But my sister has been trying to find this stranger for a couple of days now. Who knew that it would be Wriothesley?..”

Convincing you that your elder sister had found that stranger, you went to Fortress of Meropide. To tell the truth, you were worried, was it possible that after that incident, this stranger was tried and ended up in the fortress? Various thoughts crossed your mind, but since the elder sister found a stranger, then she knows what she’s talking about.

- The Duke will be with you soon, Miss Clorinde, -the guard said to your sister.

- Thank you, - Clorinda answered briefly.

- I understand correctly that he was just talking about that same Duke of the Meropid Fortress? – you asked.

- Yes, this is the same Duke.

- Will the Duke himself bring that stranger? – you asked, clearly not understanding what was happening.

- You’ll find out everything for yourself soon, dear sister, - your sister answered with a slight grin.

The guard informed the Duke of the arrival of Clorinde and another lady. He wondered who this could be? Although only one option came to mind. Clorinde's younger sister. She told many times what a hooligan her sister was, she even promised to introduce her, although Wriothesley himself did not expect that he would meet her so soon.

- I didn’t expect that you would visit the Fortress of Meropide so soon, it seems like you were visiting only recently. Should I pour some tea? - Wriothesley greeted Clorinde with his signature grin.

- Tea can wait, but I want to introduce you to my sister, whom you met before, or rather, who kissed you.

An awkward silence hung in the Duke's office. You literally wanted to fall into the ground from shame. Well, how could you manage to kiss not an ordinary resident of Cour de Fontaine, but the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide himself!

- Why are we silent, little sister? You yourself wanted to apologize to him, - your sister tried to support you, although she was more likely to passively mock you.

- You didn’t tell me that this same stranger is the same mysterious Duke of the Meropid Fortress!

- Well, you didn’t ask him when you kissed him.

While you and your sister were arguing, Wriothesley was trying not to laugh. Firstly, so as not to embarrass you with my behavior, because I understood how ashamed you were of that situation; secondly: the arguments between you and your sister were very funny.

- Well, that's enough. Apologize and get it over with, - Clorinde said, hinting that she didn’t want Wriothesley to witness their quarrels.

You were very nervous, and not even because it was difficult to apologize, but because you managed to kiss the Duke himself. Without thinking for a long time, you let go of your head as a sign of apology and said:

- I apologize for the inconvenience caused. I sincerely want us both to forget about my thoughtless offense.

- Apology accepted, don't worry. To tell the truth, I was very surprised by your action, but I do not hate it at all. So you don't have to worry about it. Maybe we can get to know each other better over a cup of tea? - Wriothesley suggested, trying to somehow make the atmosphere in the office more comfortable, rather than awkward.

- Well, I won’t refuse.

Should I do a second part?

[gojoidyll]

Thinking of Wriothesley wrongly accusing you in the Fortress of Meropide.

You were a new recruit within the garde and your first assignment just so happened to be keeping the order in the Fortress of Meropide. Your Boss? The infamous Wriothesley.

When you first met him, you couldn't help but to die on the inside. Despite being a garde and finishing at the top of your class, you were quite the meek individual and absolutely hated confrontation.

However, even as you stuttered over your words in a small greeting to the man, you couldn't deny his good looks. Your bleeding heart couldn't help but to swoon.

And as time passed, you would find yourself admiring his Grace from a distance. A giddy smile on your lips as you made it your secret mission to see him at least once a day. Do you ever plan on ever going up to talk to him, however? Never. Your introverted heart wouldn't be able to take it.

Well, until that all changed when you were forcefully dragged out of your bed in the gardes' dorms. Your eyes still bleary with sleep as you looked at your surroundings. What was your bed was now the office of the Duke of the Fortress of Meropide.

Finally realizing your situation, you tried to stand up but were forced back to your knees by the gardes holding your shoulders.

"Y- your Grace, w- what is going-?"

"Enough. You thought I wouldn't notice, right? Well, I'm done playing games. I'm going to get the answers I want put of you ome way or another." He knelt down and was about to grab your face between his fingers, but luckily - he was interrupted.

"STOP!!!"

Everyone seemed to look at the newcomer, "that's- that's not the spy!"

Wriothesley stood back up, a frown on his features.

"This garde fits the description, no?"

You looked in the newcomer's eyes, "well, they do have (color) hair and (color) eyes. Along with (color) skin but they don't have a scar on their neck or a mole beneath their right eye. You got the wrong garde..," the newcomer stressed.

And almost immediately at the declaration were you let go. Your arms, shoulders, and knees suddenly sore as you released the breath you didn't know you were holding.

"Everyone out for a moment. Except you."

You knew he was looking down at you without having to look up, and when everyone exited his office he finally held out his hand to you.

"Ahh, this is kind of awkward now and I know a simple apology won't do. So if you want to be transferred out of the Fortress I won't stop you."

You gently took his hand, form still shaking.

"I'm .. ok .. it was an honest mistake. Though, if you were to, I don't know, pay for my breakfast then I would mostly like forget this ever happened."

Yeah, you were still shaken up from this whole thing. But ... food was now on your mind now that the danger of being interrogated for a crime you didn't commit was out of the way.

Wriothesley smiled lightly, "what about I treat you to dinner later too?"

"Sounds like a deal."

Little did you know, however, was that one breakfast and dinner turned into lunch the next day. Then turned into a date up on the surface. Then turned into you sleeping in his bed.

[justasimpleton-26]

A complicated night

(Part 2 of a simple date, which you can find the first part here)

MDNI

Jason wondered if having that date had been a mistake.

    As he sat in his chair in the dining room, you across from him, and Dick, and Tim on either side of him, he could feel a lump form in his throat as he thought about what to tell you.

    To your credit, you’d calm down some, and didn’t call the cops on Greyson when he had popped up in the bedroom with no warning.

     But right now, as you gazed at his brothers with a guarded gaze, Jason felt like someone had kicked his heart when he realized that you were also looking at him like that. Like you were unsure of who Jason really was, because if you thought about it, you didn’t really know Jason.

     Jason scrubbed his face with his hand, wanting this day to be over with. Or at least reverting back time to where he would have taken you to the movies or had a picnic by the beach.

     Anything but to go to the town fair where everything was uncovered in just a second.

    This situation also didn’t help Jason’s urge to hunt down that guy from the fair and pummel him into the ground.

     “So…are we just going to wait in silence or is there something we’re waiting on.” You asked, and that made Jason look up to see your expression.

      You seemed a bit calmer, but still he could tell that your guard was up, and Jason exhaled.

      “I-“

      “Please excuse my brother, he isn’t one to talk so much.” Dick interrupted, still wearing his mask and suit.

       Jason felt something clench his heart. A feeling he hadn’t felt in two years.

      The familiar spice of rage that he thought he had outgrown of.

     “I can speak for myself, Greyson.” Jason spat out, and your gaze went between both brothers, somehow the tension growing in the room.

      “Oh, come on now, Jason. Don’t you remember when we were young, and you used to be shy to talk to anyone outside of the family. That stuck with you for a while too- “

       “Can we focus?” Tim interrupted, looking impatient as he texted on his phone.

       “Right, right, we’re actually here to take you back home, Jason.” Dick replied, taking a sip of his hot chocolate that Jason had made him.

        “Yeah, no thanks.” Jason replied, swiping a cookie from Tim. “I’m good right here.”

         “Jason come on; we miss you. Damian misses you, Cass, Duke, and Steph. And…Bruce has been beside himself thinking that you died again.” Tim pleaded, making Jason freeze in his seat.

         “Again?” you repeated, looking from Tim to Dick to finally Jason. “What do you mean by that? Jason died?”

     Jason was internally swearing and cursing and maybe punching Timothy a little bit on the mouth.

    “Look, Y/N-“Jason tried to say before he was cut off again by Dick.

    “It was a long time ago, and thankfully, it didn’t stick. So, Jay, you want to pack a bag, and head back to Gotham?” Dick said, turning to Jason.

     “For the last time Dick, I’m not going back with you or Timothy. I’m perfectly fine right here. And please, please stop answering for me! I have a voice that I can use too. I’ve grown since we’ve parted ways, and ya’ll want to pull me back in?!” Jason said, incredulous, making Tim take a step back, and leaving Dick slack jawed.

      You felt very awkward watching this before your very eyes, and tried to make as little sound as possible so the attention didn’t divert to you. You could understand his frustration though; Jason had changed a lot since she first met him. He was more vocal and though he claimed to have a problem with his temper, you’d never seen it to this extent.

       Until he was surrounded by his brothers, and they were probably dragging up memories Jason wanted to forget.

       “There’s that anger that Jason always wielded.” Tim commented, taking a bite of that cookie. “You’ve probably gotten use to this, huh Y/N?”

         “Actually, I’ve never seen him get this angry until now.” You say, before Jason can reply, and they both look surprised at that comment.

          “No way, are you sure? Jason Todd? Former Robin, sidekick to Batman, and former Red Hood?” Dick said, sounding confused.

           Jason slammed his palm on the table, causing everyone to jump. All three gazes were on him, and there was an expression that you’d never seen on his face before.

          Even the time when Jason almost fought the guy at the fair, he didn’t look this angry.

          “I’ve heard enough out of the both of you; get the fuck out. You brought me nothing but problems, and I’m over here trying to live my life peacefully.” Jason said, in a voice so low, and threatening, you got goosebumps scattered all over your arm.

          “But-“

          “Now Dick. I’ve heard enough and I don’t want to hear anymore. Tell Bruce I said he can go fuck himself, I’m so tired of all of you.” Jason replied harshly, getting up from the table, and heading off to his bedroom.

           The door slams, and you watch as Tim deflates, shoving his phone back in his pocket, Dick getting back up from his seat.

           “I’m so sorry, I can have him reach out to you when he’s calmed down.” You say, and Dick waves off the offer, giving her a strained smile.

            “No worries. It was a bit too much coming down here with no warning and expecting…anyways, thank you for your hospitality. My brother and I will take our leave.” Dick replied, and Tim nodded in agreement, clenching and unclenching his hands.

            You walk both out, watching as they disappeared into the night, and headed back inside.

            Jason hadn’t come out of the room, and your worry for him grew. You slipped into the shared bedroom and slid into the bed next to him. He was facing away from you, but when her felt the bed move, he turned and pressed his face against your chest, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

          You held him, not saying anything, and that’s when he broke down and cried, and told you everything.

Someone steps out from behind a tree, gazing at the front of the house where it’s been confirmed that Jason Todd lives at.

     Pressing on the comm in their ear, the person gives their boss a status update.

     “This is the right one. Jason Todd is residing here.”

To be continued…?

[chaoticbardlady99]

She's My Religion (Part 1: She's Cold, She's Dark, She's Cynical) Astarion x F! Reader

   Hello! I have been plagued with an idea! Enjoy! This will probably be a four part story, but I am not sure just yet!

Title from song “She’s My Religion” by Pale Waves

CW: Parental death, grief, murder, domestic violence, mentions of physical abuse, mentions of emotional abuse.

Synopsis- You are a paladin under the Oath of Vengeance. You escaped the noble life that was unwillingly thrust upon you. Now, on your way to kill your evil step-father while trying to find a solution for the parasite in your head- you find out he’s promised your hand in marriage to Lord Cazador Szarr and that he’s taken your mom’s life. Looking for some comfort- you go to Astarion, but you don’t hear the words you were hoping for.

*Gif does not belong to me- could not find original owner

Karlach whoops and cheers as she releases you from a rib crushing hug- Wyll and Gale are grinning from ear to ear. You are all elated for her that Dammon was able to figure out how to cool down her engine- even if temporarily.

  You know that she doesn’t want to hear about the future and the harm not going back to Avernus will cause so you don’t say anything while Wyll tries to lecture her. You are barely listening as the two of them go back and forth, but when Wyll glances back at you with a look that screams, “Can you please help me out over here?”

  You chuckle at your close friend’s distress and shake your head at him. Wyll adores Karlach- you know he would give her his own heart if he could. He just needs to let her come to her own decision- you’d like to think that Karlach might decide to go back until they can come up with a permanent solution. However, at the end of the day, it’s Karlach’s decision. You are just as unhappy with the impending doom your bubbly companion is facing, but that is not your weight to carry.

  “Unfortunately Wyll, I am going to support whatever Karlach wants to do for as long as I can emotionally tolerate it,” you give Karlach a playful punch in the arm, “you’re not allowed to die on me, ya know?”

  Karlach rolls her eyes and smiles- pulling you in for an awkward walking side hug.

 “Don’t worry Soldier- I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

    You all begin to head back to camp from Last Light Inn when Jaheira calls you from afar, waving you over. You look at your companions and they look back at you- equally as confused. You tell them that you will catch up with them in a little bit and they leave you there alone. Cautiously, you walk towards her- she did just threaten to kill you not even 72 hours ago and what an eventful 72 hours it has been. 

  You killed a devil, almost died killing that Devil, found out Astarion’s life is in far more danger than initially thought, watched Astarion convince a weird man to drink himself to death, watched an even weirder man be inhabited by a dead lady, fought shadows, and now, Karlach can hug people. 

  Life could not be any weirder, but you gladly welcome it over the mansion you had been trapped in after your mother married your step-father. The day you escaped from there had been bliss- despite how much you miss your mother. Your mother had been of noble human blood before she met your father (an elf). After one late night tryst and falling pregnant, her title had fallen significantly. She married your father and you had all lived happily together in Baldur’s Gate. You grew up poor, but Duke Ravenguard always tried to make sure you and your family had been taken care of. You grew up with Wyll Ravenguard and you have been tight knit friends almost your whole lives. 

  Until you were 14.

  Count Bridril Von, a high Sorcerer, had not forgotten your mother nor her breaking her promise to marry him by becoming pregnant by another. After your father died, he found your mother and enchanted her to become a mindless puppet. She would break occasionally, but ultimately you were left to fend for yourself against your 9 step-siblings (5 girls, 4 boys) and Bridril Von- who enjoyed taking out all his anger and hatred for your father on you. The only times he would claim you as one of his own would be when you had competed in various competitions and won- outranking his sons. The publicity he got from having a little sharp shooter and for “raising his darling step-daughter after she so horribly lost her hero father” was incredible. You became a show pony- a pretty, malleable little thing that was forced to perform and excel so that she could be treated with basic respect.

 The minute you were able to escape the Mansion from the Hells, you ran to the docks, bought a ticket to Silverymoon, took an Oath of Vengeance, and now you are here with an illithid parasite in your head. At first you had thought you were the unluckiest person in the world when you were kidnapped by a mind flayer, but your companions have quickly made the whole journey worthwhile- Astarion especially.

  You had met him before in your previous life as a troublemaking bastard and you had had conversations before- nothing too crazy nor serious, just quips and flirting back and forth. Astarion had been at the mansion frequently or you at the palace because your oldest step-sister, Daisy Von, is (was?) due to marry Lord Cazador Szarr. It was no secret to anyone, not even Daisy, that Cazador wants to marry you due to your likeness of a long lost love of his, but you are not of royal blood. Cazador would lose his alliance with Bridril if he married his boorish, rebellious, and unwanted step-daughter- despite your many achievements. You were grateful. You didn’t want to marry the man and Daisy was foolishly smitten- she could have him for all you care. That was your mentality before you knew he was a Master Vampire.

  Your family and Astarion’s ‘family’ spent a lot of time together. Astarion had become your escort around the palace grounds because Bridril did not want you to take the spotlight away from Daisy. 

 Originally, it had been Pale Petras, but you had unceremoniously kicked him in the balls after he had said something rather unbecoming towards you and had to be physically dragged away by Leon before he tried to kill you or worse. Astarion had immediately taken a liking to you for that alone. 

  When you had stumbled upon each other at the beach after the Nautiloid crash, it had been a little over two years since you had last seen each other. Without the watchful eyes of Cazador, your friendship and romantic relationship has blossomed. 

   You had been weary at first, worried that he was just getting close to you because he knew how much it would piss off Cazador if Astarion were to be with the one person Cazador could not have. Now, you are about 95 percent sure that isn’t the case, but you remain alert- just in case. 

  You are used to being used for an upperhand in the world and you hope everyday that you are more than an advantage against Cazador to him because he truly means everything to you. 

  Which is maybe why you are quite agitated with Jaheira taking precious minutes away from you that could be spent with your love. You offer her a smile as she holds out a letter.

 “A letter? For me? Oh Jaheira, you shouldn’t have!”

   Jaheira hides her amusement behind a scowl, “it came through here magically. Rolan was able to calm down the little portal it came flying through- I suggest waiting until you reach Baldur’s Gate to be sending and receiving mail.”

   You apologize and walk towards camp, opening and reading the contents in the letter. The letter rips open your entire body and it feels like the ground is going to cave in. You read and reread the letter multiple times- standing between the edge of Last Light Inn and the edge of Camp, not even 5 feet away. 

  Tav,

  My name is Mary, I was your mother’s lady in waiting. You were always so busy that we never got the opportunity to meet. I am sorry to tell you that I only have bad news.

 The Count had received an offer from Lord Cazador Szarr two weeks ago regarding marrying you that he is not going to refuse- initially he was, but then you continued to not come home and he became bitter. 

  Cazador expressed urgency regarding getting you back to Baldur’s Gate. Bridril has hired mercenaries to hunt for you.

  Bridril killed your mother- the whispers in the castle say it was not an easy or quick death. My understanding is that you took an Oath of Vengeance so I hope Bridril is on your list. Your mother was the kindest woman I have ever had the privilege of meeting.

   I know she would want you to know that she loves you, is proud of you, is watching out for you, and knows you are off to do great things. 

  Keep vigilant and may Selune bless your path.

  -Mary

     No. This isn't happening to you. You are only days- maybe even a week or two away from going back home, killing Bridril, and freeing your mother. You were going to be a family again. You wanted to introduce her to your companions and buy a nice little home to live in with her like you used to when you were little. You were going to tell her all about your adventures, your time on the Pirate ship that took you to Silverymoon, your life there as a Paladin, and his whole fucking excursion.

   She’s gone and the wail that threatens to crack open your chest is suffocating. You quickly walk to Astarion’s tent, where you have been sleeping most nights, and he’s not there. Of all the times you really need him to not be doing anything and yet! You shove the letter back in the envelope and absentmindedly throw it to another part of the tent- not looking and not caring. Your grief feels like it may kill you and you just need to be held- to know and feel like you aren’t completely alone in the world right now. 

    After a brief chat with Halsin, you discover Astarion is hanging out with Shadowheart behind her tent. You make haste that way- hoping they won’t be too mad that you are interrupting their wine and gossip time. You had gotten back earlier than anticipated and in other circumstances you might wait until he is done, but you aren’t in your right mind. 

  You approach the tent and hear them talking on the other side, facing the forest, and sitting on a log. The tears begin to manifest in your eyes as relief floods you- you are so close to feeling okay again.

  “How bloody hard is it to nicely, lovingly tell someone that you’ve been deceiving them this whole time?”

  You stop dead in your tracks. 

  No. 

  “Look, there is no good way to say it,” Shadowheart says, “you just need to own up to it and then be honest about all of it.” 

 “Oh yes because ‘I planned on seducing you, sleeping with you, and manipulating you from the start’ is such a great opener,” Astarion scoffs, “there has to be some other way to make it flow with the rest of it. A better way to tell her.”

  “No need,” you speak up miserably, coming around the corner, “you just did. Wasn’t that hard was it?”

  Astarion and Shadowheart look absolutely shell shocked to see you standing there. Astarion looks like he’s about to throw up as he gets up and looks at you softly, a pleading, panicked look in his eyes.

  “Darling!” he says, getting up, laughing nervously“you’re back early. I- can we-”

  “Whatever we are,” you say with a glare, tears now pouring and with as much hatred in your voice as you can muster, “or whatever you were pretending I was to you- it’s over.” 

  Astarion’s entire face falls while he’s staring at you and he looks like he might cry, he opens his mouth, “Darling, pl-”

   Shadowheart looks like she is about to speak up for him too, but you are far too angry, far too hurt- far too lonely right now in the world to let yourself be tricked into staying with him. They are best friends, she’s probably in on it too. 

 “No! I hate you so much!,” the venom in your voice being watered down by your anguish, “I hate you more than I thought I could ever hate anyone- undead, dead, or alive! I trusted you and you used me for your own gain- so unkindly, go fuck yourself!”

   You spin around on your heels, race over to your tent, and tie the flaps tightly shut. You slump to the ground and just sob- grabbing your mother’s old blanket that you had stolen before you left. You scream into it silently and all the pain in your body is threatening to make you burst apart at the seams. You wouldn’t be surprised if you did. 

  In less than an hour you have lost your mother, Astarion, and potentially your freedom. Astarion had used you to get one up on Cazador and he succeeded. Now that he knows what Cazador’s ritual is- he’s decided he’s done with you and every step you make has to be done cautiously because one slip up and you are going to be the consort to a fucking Master Vampire after fighting to avoid this for so long. All because Astarion just had to poke the bear. 

Astarion signed your fate using your blood as ink.

   Your throat is raw and your head is pounding by the time your lungs feel like they know how to properly breathe again. You hear someone knock on one of the wooden beams of your tent and you scoff.

  “It’s just me Tav,” Wyll says softly, “can I come in.”

     You get up and untie the tent flaps numbly. You look at Wyll, eyes puffy and red- your face streaked with tears. As Wyll walks into your tent, you get a glimpse of Astarion looking crestfallen as you invite Wyll in. You just scrunch your nose up in disgust at him before closing your tent. 

    Wyll is sitting down on your bedroll and you sit down right next to him- both of you looking at the ground. Wyll gently puts his hand on top of yours and smiles at you with his signature gentle, I’m here, grin.

 “My mom’s dead, Wyll.”

  “What?” 

 “Bridril killed her. She had snapped out of whatever hold he had on her when he agreed to marry me off to Cazador,” you choke out between sobs, “he killed her for trying to protect me. Now? I am officially going to be married off to a Master Vampire the minute I step foot in Baldur’s Gate if Bridril has his way.”

  “Oh Tav…”

 “And then! To make matters even worse?,” you look at him with disbelief and your voice sounds borderline hysterical now, “I overheard Astarion and Shadowheart prepping his ‘I’ve been using you this whole time and I’m ready to break-up’ speech. He was trying to figure out how to be nice about it.”

  Wyll stares at you with bewilderment. He is absolutely silent as you break down sobbing again, but he pulls you into him and you put your head on his shoulder.

  “I fe-feel so alone,” you manage to say coherently, “and so frightened.” 

  “I know you do my dear friend,” Wyll strokes your hair as make a mess of his shirt, “but you have Karlach, Gale, Lae’zel, Halsin, Scratch, and even an Owlbear Cub for Gods sake!”

  You smile at the emphasis on your rather dangerous furry friend. Wyll had asked what you were going to do with him when you got back to Baldur’s Gate and when you didn’t have a plan- both of you were a little horrified. You both decided to send it to Daisy as an engagement present once it’s big enough to stomp on Cazador and Daisy mid-wedding.

  “And besides,” Wyll says, “you’re my closest friend. I won’t allow you to be alone nor face this alone. I’m probably the best monster hunter you know.”

 “You are also the only monster hunter I know.”

  Wyll rolls his eyes and smiles brightly at you, “That’s besides the point, but I am going to let you sleep. You look like you need it.” 

   Wyll places a soft kiss on your forehead before he leaves your tent.

  “Thank you Wyll.”

    He turns around and smiles, “Any time Tav.”

_________________________________________________

Tag-list: @spacebarbarianweird @domainoflostsouls

[roughlytwentytwofrogs]

I need someone, ANYONE to see what I'm seeing.

Wyll x Rion (Jaheira's sassy daughter).

Okay, okay, I know, but hear me out:

Wyll becomes Duke, Rion ranks up in the Flaming Fists. They meet again some time post game because of their jobs. Wyll trying to woo her while she is just struggling to keep him alive through assassination attempts and other political shenanigans. He tries so hard to have a romance straight out of a book, except he fails to realize that he's the princess and she's the knight in shining armor (and she's very grumpy about it).

They're both idealists and inherently good guys; they both want to protect Baldur's Gate as much as they can and help people. They're a perfect match in my heart.

He'd fall first, because maybe she reminds him of Florrick a little and maybe he sees the good she wants to do behind the grumpy sassy facade she shows the world and the love and care she has for her adopted siblings whom she practically raised. He would look at her and see how fierce and intense she is and maybe he would notice the assassin coming his way a tiiiiny bit before he shows it but she's always there to save him anyways and she looks really hot doing so, so what's the harm?

And she'd fall harder because she would be convinced at first that he's another one of those 'heroes' like her mum who in the pursuit of greatness forget to be good people but slowly she realizes that he's actually not like that at all, he's a 20-something romantic and a tiny bit goofy guy trying to take an entire city's wellbeing onto his shoulders both to honour his late dad and because he's just Like That and oh my god he's kinda cute actually what the fuck.

Wyll gets to be like "That's my wife!" *kicks feet* and Rion gets to be like "That's my husband!" *punches you in the face*

And their happily ever after would involve kids (adopted or not), awkward ballroom dancing with his very much not used to it wife, and reforming Baldur's Gate and the Flaming Fists to do better.

Does anyone understand my vision??? Please???

[foolishlovers]

do you have any non-explicit fic recs? im having trouble finding some😅

here are some of my favourite non-explicit good omens fics

[you can request more fic recs here]

Stockholm's Other Syndrome by WaitingToBeBroken (T, 5k) Grand Duke of Hell Crowley kidnaps Supreme Archangel Aziraphale so he can finally do all those vile, nasty things he has always wanted to do to him. Like feed him sushi or force him to take a walk in the park. Hold his hand so he doesn't escape. Truly disgusting things.

Show me where the Nightingale sings by Sabotaged_Words (G, 6k) After settling into their new home in the South Downs there are still things to process for Aziraphale and Crowley before they can start a new chapter of their life. But winter is turning into spring. There is magic abroad in the air. And finally, the nightingale is back.

Fever Dream by AppleSeeds (T, 8k) When Anathema declines Crowley's invitation to go out for Halloween to stay in and look after her roommate who's feeling unwell after his flu vaccination, Crowley abandons his own plans and heads over there to do something to help Aziraphale (who he happens to have an enormous crush on) feel better too.

Slow by write_away (T, 9k) It started like this: A boy with the ability to warp reality met an angel and a demon and he made assumptions. You might say it started like this: An angel and a demon found a marriage contract hung on the wall of the angel's bookshop. They didn't question it. It also could have started like this: Once upon a time, the angel told the demon he went too fast. The demon took it to heart.   Aziraphale and Crowley find themselves somehow married. Crowley fears going too fast. Aziraphale forges ahead. Neither know how to ask questions of each other.

where the lights burn low and you're only mine by hopelessromantic549 (T, 13k) For the most part, Aziraphale sees himself as a rational angel who follows a consistent moral code. That has been his identity for millennia, and it comforts him, gives him stability in an ever-changing universe. What he feels for Crowley is decidedly not rational, and that's more terrifying than the Great Plan failing him. (Or, Aziraphale and Crowley move into a cottage together after the world doesn't end, and Aziraphale tries to be brave.)

muddle through somehow by curtaincall (T, 27k) Aziraphale Fell runs a successful food blog, Celestial Comestibles, where he shares mouthwatering recipes and heartwarming stories about his happy domestic life in a cottage with his husband and son. As promotion for his upcoming cookbook, his publishers run a contest: one lucky winner will get to spend Christmas with Aziraphale and his family. What the publishers don't know is that the real Aziraphale Fell is a single city-dweller. And if he wants to keep up his happily married persona, he'll have to acquire a cottage, husband, and son before Christmas. As it happens, his friend and neighbor Anthony Crowley has his nephew staying with him for the holidays. One fake marriage proposal later, and everything seems tickety-boo--as long as Aziraphale can keep from developing inconveniently real feelings for his pretend husband…

Fifteen Years of Heartache by mondlichtmaus (T, 20k) Crowley was roused from his nap by the sound of somebody opening the door. He didn't move. Maybe they would go away. "Excuse me?" someone called. They weren't going away. Crowley rose, lifting his head to squint at the intruder. A broad figure, silhouetted by the light of the hallway. He couldn't make out his face, eyes still bleary from sleep. Just a halo of light framing his head. "What?" Crowley grumbled. There was a moment of silence, then the intruder spoke again. "Anthony?" - They're teachers. They're in love. They're oblivious.

Flowers From Hell by entanglednow (T, 41k) In which Aziraphale makes more of an effort to be involved with Crowley's interests and hobbies.

Put Out The Fire by Aleakim (T, 133k) Aziraphale finds himself in a very awkward position as some sort of spell makes everyone merely glancing in his direction instantly fall deeply and desperately in love with him. Absolutely everyone. Well, apart from Crowley, that is. And while both angel and demon search for a solution to this fairly unique problem, Crowley can’t help wondering whether Aziraphale might finally figure out some things he kept hidden for so very long.

Married at First Sight by Aracloptia (T, 146k) “Well, that was a thing,” Crowley said once they were out of earshot. Without talking about it, they were both heading down the field, towards the lake where the photographer (and likely a few more people from the TV crew) was waiting. “That was a wedding,” Aziraphale replied, surprised at his own annoyance that somebody called a wedding a ‘thing’. “Yeah, obviously, didn’t miss that part,” Crowley said with a shrug, and waved abruptly in Aziraphale’s general direction. “Neither did you, from the looks of it, since you’re dressed like a wedding bride and everything.” “Excuse me, I am a—“ Aziraphale stopped himself, and started over. In which Aziraphale ends up marrying a rude stranger who wears sunglasses.

[and here are two of mine]

Where a Canvas Blooms by foolishlovers (T, 3k) It’s an Arrangement. Aziraphale knows this. He knows a lot of things, and others he doesn’t, but the most important things, he knows. He knows that the cheeky redhead in his arms smiles and purrs when he runs his fingers through his hair, knows that Crowley’s hands are rough from working outside, knows the softness of his heart. Aziraphale doesn’t know he’s in love with Crowley until he does. But it’s just an Arrangement. Is it?

Every Part of Me by foolishlovers (T, 10k) Heartthrob rockstar Antonia Harmonia, better known as Anthony J. Crowley offstage, has safeguarded his singing career from his best friend and long-term crush, Aziraphale, for nearly two decades. But when Aziraphale stumbles upon Crowley’s secret at one of his concerts, Crowley is suddenly confronted with unexpected consequences. Could the best of both worlds be within his reach? A Hannah Montana AU.

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